Spiritual Guidance
by Philote
Summary: A young pastor drawn into the supernatural battle meets a woman with a unique concern.


Title: Spiritual Guidance

Author: Philote

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters/Pairing: Jo, OMC (implied Jo/possessed!Sam)

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of _Supernatural_ do not belong to me. I make no money from this story. Please don't sue.

Warnings: spoilers for "Born Under a Bad Sign," references to noncon, discussion of abortion, religious themes

Summary: A young pastor drawn into the supernatural battle meets a woman with a unique concern.

Author's Note: Written for the 'chimera' prompt at Taming the Muse and my spn25 table prompt 'possession.'

oOo

It was dark out when Timothy finally looked up from his theology texts. He was startled at the late hour and immediately began to close up his office for the evening. He worked efficiently, trying to ignore the unsettled feeling creeping back into his chest.

He'd been plagued with this feeling on and off for several days. It receded when he prayed or was caught up in studying. But it kept returning, and he was coming to terms with the conclusion that something unpleasant was on the horizon.

He'd experienced such a feeling only once before, during a rash of untimely deaths amongst his parishioners a few months back.

He headed toward the church's sanctuary to lock up and set the alarm. It was somewhat disheartening that he had to perform this duty, but they couldn't afford to take chances. Robbery and vandalism were too common these days.

He entered through the open right-hand door and started up the side aisle, but paused when he looked towards the pulpit. There was a pretty young blonde in the fourth pew. Her head was bowed.

He hesitated, then decided to hold back. She wasn't familiar, so she wasn't a member here. If she had just come for the safe calmness of the sanctuary, for a quiet place for prayer, then she might resent his interruption. He would introduce himself, see if she needed any help, but he would wait until she had finished praying.

So he stood there quietly, mentally skipping ahead to his evening. If he wasn't too long, the boys would still be up. He could give them their baths and go through the bedtime rituals, giving Leah a break after an undoubtedly busy day and getting precious time with his kids. Then he might actually get some alone time with her. He looked forward to it.

Still, he felt a certain empathy towards this young woman he had never even spoken to. He waited patiently. It wasn't long before she looked up, studying the cross on the wall for a few minutes before she stood. He spotted then something that had been hidden while she was sitting—the telltale bulge of an unborn child.

He was a bad judge of these things; his only real experience with pregnancy was his wife's twins, and he suspected the number of little lives in there made a difference. Leah was about that big by her fourth month. This woman was probably a little further along.

She hadn't seen him, so he reached behind himself to pull the side door shut with a loud click, announcing his presence. She jumped and spun towards him, hand going to her purse.

"Sorry; didn't mean to startle you." He gave her his best welcome-to-the-church smile as he approached. "Hi there. I'm Timothy Ledford, associate pastor."

"Hi." She took his hand, smiled politely enough, but pointedly didn't offer her name. There was an awkward moment of silence while she seemed to wrestle with an internal conflict. Finally she asked, "Could I bother you for a few minutes?"

"It's no bother. Let's have a seat."

She made her way back into the aisle and he followed, allowing her a bit of space as he sat on the edge. When she remained silent, as if she didn't know where to begin, he prompted, "Is this perhaps about the little one?"

"Very much so."

He sent a discreet glance to her left hand, noting the lack of ring. "Feeling some anxiety about the birth?"

She glanced at him, then looked away as she confessed, "I'm not sure I should go through with it."

He caught his breath in disappointment, though he'd half-expected something like this. "Is there no father in the picture?" he asked calmly, casually, grateful for his training.

"The father…it wasn't quite consensual."

"Ah." He closed his eyes briefly. Counseling rape victims was a heart-rending duty. He'd never dealt with a case that involved a child, and he instinctively sent up a prayer for guidance.

When she said nothing more he ventured, "May I ask if you've received professional counseling?"

"I don't need emotional help. I need…spiritual guidance."

He thought both would probably be a good idea, but he didn't contradict her. "All right. I'll help however I can."

"Do you believe in angels?"

The question was a little out of left field, but somehow it didn't surprise him. He didn't hesitate. "Yes."

"Not in a characters-in-the-Bible sort of way, but like they're actually out there now, interacting with people?"

"Yes, I do," he answered honestly. "Though, to my knowledge, I've never met one."

"Then you believe in demons, too?" Her demeanor suggested that this wasn't something she was wondering about personally. No, something told him this girl had experience with demons. She was sure of the answers; she was just feeling out his beliefs before she trusted him with whatever had brought her here.

"Yes," he answered quietly, solemnly. He knew now what the sense of empathy had been about. He had some experience in this area too.

During the rash of suspicious deaths a month or so back, a couple of guys had come through town. They had introduced themselves as FBI, though he'd started to doubt that when he realized they were brothers. He'd doubted it more when he found out what they thought was behind the killings.

By the time all was said and done, Timothy had encountered the very tangible side of the supernatural. But despite the evil, his faith was all the stronger for the good that had triumphed and the deepened sense he had developed for the spiritual.

As for the two men, he knew they were struggling in this supernatural war. He had hoped he'd find some way to help them; that they would keep in touch. Thus far he'd heard nothing further from them.

He'd also had no more tangible brushes with the dark side of the supernatural, not until now. But he could feel it now in the slight tightening in his chest, in the little knot of fear coalescing in his stomach. He recognized the feeling. This young woman had been touched by evil. And through her—with her, perhaps—he was about to touch it again.

"You've met demons?" he prodded gently.

She didn't confirm it aloud, but the look in her eyes said it all.

At first glance she was nothing like the two brothers. But closer scrutiny showed scars on her left arm; the glint of what was probably something very sharp in her purse. There was a world-weary look in her eye that seemed far beyond her years, but there was a certain strength there too.

That strength had her pushing for answers, though she clearly feared what they might be. "The Bible talks about them possessing people, right?"

"It does." The scholar in him wanted to elaborate; the counselor wanted to ask questions. But he held his tongue, letting her lead the conversation where she needed it to go.

"If…if a person is possessed when a child is conceived…do you think there's something demonic in the pregnancy? In the child?"

He blinked, taken aback. The knot in his stomach tightened. He watched her closely as he hesitated, gathering his thoughts.

He could guess what was going through her mind. Her fears had given birth to some nightmarish chimera. She was envisioning a monster growing inside her. Probably not so literal as the Greek myths, not some horrific creature made up of mismatched parts. But some demonic-human hybrid perhaps; a child that looked human enough but had only darkness where the soul should be.

Timothy offered a brief, silent prayer for God to help him find the right words. "So, I take it that the man who raped you…"

"He was possessed at the time," she affirmed. "By a particularly nasty and vindictive demon. It was just using me…" she trailed off and paused for a long moment. "I was just bait. I don't think impregnating me was the object of the encounter."

"You're in what… your second trimester? Can you feel the baby moving, kicking, a separate entity from you? A little life inside you?"

She looked a bit put out by this. "Are you going to feed me lines you'd give to any girl considering abortion?"

"You're not just any girl. And this isn't just any pregnancy."

Abortion was a subject he was passionate about. His own boys had reached their 'terrible twos,' but they still had their babyish chubbiness and tiny fingers and toes, and their incredibly affectionate nature. He couldn't imagine _not_ loving a child. A precious, helpless, innocent child.

"I don't believe a child can be born evil," he explained carefully.

"Even one conceived by evil?"

He hesitated briefly. "I know it's hard to accept sometimes, but God doesn't make mistakes."

"God wasn't in this," she shot back bitterly.

"Yes, yes He was. God is in everything. Whether we see Him or not; whether we understand or not. Sometimes, oftentimes actually, we aren't intended to see the bigger picture. Not while it is happening, anyway." He leaned closer, passionate about what he was saying. He felt its truth deep in his core. "Your child is part of God's plan. He or she is important; if the pregnancy comes to term, then God very much means for this child to be born."

"It's a boy," she confessed softly.

He took a moment to think about that. She knew the gender, and she said it almost reverently. She thought abortion might be her best option, but she'd gone months without going through with it. "You love him," he pronounced, voice just as soft.

She froze, staring at him. The fear became the prominent emotion in her eyes. Then she visibly shook herself, looking away quickly and grasping the pew in front of her. "That doesn't matter."

"Of course it does," he whispered, but she was already reaching for her purse and standing up. He stood as well, hastening to say, "Look, there's a home in town, run by a great lady and sponsored by the church. You'd be welcome, and safe."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"You shouldn't try to do this alone."

She moved towards him. "Thank you for your time, but I should be going."

He moved aside to let her out, and she hastened down the aisle. "Wait," he called. When she stopped and reluctantly turned back he asked, "Can I get a name?"

She hesitated.

"First will do. Just so I can pray for you by name."

Still she considered for a long moment. Finally she offered him one quick syllable. "Jo."

He nodded, giving her a solemn smile. "I'm glad to have met you, Jo. If you change your mind, or if you need anything at all, please come back."

She studied him and hesitated for a beat too long before she nodded, forcing a small smile in return. "Thanks," she offered softly, her eyes connecting with his for a brief moment before they skittered away.

He watched her go, standing perfectly still long after the large front door had thudded shut. He couldn't help but wonder if there was something else he should have said, something more he should have done. He was accustomed to those thoughts, they came with the counseling territory. But this one felt more crucial than most.

But if there was anything he'd learned through his experience as a pastor, it was that you couldn't force help on anyone who wasn't ready to accept it. She had good reason to be skittish.

He hoped she'd be back. He would pray for her, and for the two brothers, and for all the others he hadn't met. And he would keep studying, keep his senses tuned. He fully believed he was being given a part to play in this war.

Whenever he was next needed, he would be ready.

oOo


End file.
